


Here, At The End Of All Things

by LananiA3O



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Gen, The hug we deserve, shameless wishfulfillment fluff, the horses are awesome, the hug the horsemen need
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LananiA3O/pseuds/LananiA3O
Summary: The apocalypse is over. Hell's leadership is dead. Heaven's leadership is dead. The Council is dead. And though the Horsemen and humanity stand triumphant, Fury cannot help but feel that there is something she and her brothers are missing. Something that's been overdue for millennia.
Relationships: Fury & Death, Fury & Rampage, Fury & Strife, Fury & War, Strife & Death, War & Death, War & Ruin, War & Strife
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	Here, At The End Of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This work was written for publication on Archive of Our Own and [my personal Tumblr](https://lananiscorner.tumblr.com/) and is not for profit. Any re-publication on for-profit/monetized sites/apps is not authorized or supported by me. If you come across such a re-publication, please leave a comment in [my tumblr ask box](https://lananiscorner.tumblr.com/ask). Podfics and translations may be authorized upon request.
> 
> Inspired by [this wonderful art](https://another-darksiders-blog.tumblr.com/post/188111606745/day-3-the-hug-they-deserve-now-lets-be-honest) by Another Darksiders Blog, linked to me by the lovely members of the Darksiders Discord. This is shameless fluffy wish fulfillment and I have no regrets.

Before her feet, the Earth stretched on seemingly forever, a desolate wasteland of ash and bone. Somewhere in the far off distance, some demonic creature screamed its last scream amidst the burning rubble of what had once been the Destroyer’s tower.

 _What irony_ , Fury thought to herself, _that the place that was supposed to herald the doom of all mankind now laid shattered just a maker’s throw away from the place that had ushered in humanity’s hope._

They had returned to Haven in the end and though most of its defenders had fallen to secure humanity’s escape, Ulthane had survived and had gladly returned the refuge to its former glory upon man’s return.

 _One-hundred and ninety-four_. She had left Earth with twenty-five humans and she had returned with one-hundred and ninety-four, armed to the teeth, trained in the arts of nephilim combat by a horseman, and strengthened, immortalized in the most literal meaning of the word, through the Lord of Hollows’ sacrifice.

Today, Hell had lost the Destroyer, Lucifer and Lilith. Heaven had lost Michael, Gabriel and Metatron. The Council had lost. Period. Their shattered corpses burned in the wastes, a testament to immortal hubris.

And a testament to the strength of the horsemen.

Fury turned around slowly. The base of the Haven tree was crawling with humans and although there were signs of grief, mostly their celebrations seemed to be of elation. Tearful hugs over laughter, cheers to the fallen and the victorious, cheers to the makers and—most of all—to the horsemen, who had saved their lives.

“How many did we lose,” Strife asked from where he sat on one of the large roots, cleaning demon guts and brains off of Redemption.

“Seven.”

“Seven billion,” Death corrected her. Harvester could have used a good cleaning, too, but he was too busy keeping watch over the entire field. He did not trust this silence. Death never trusted anything and anyone. Fury found it—mildly speaking—infuriating. “There should be seven billion here. That’s what I sacrificed the souls of our kin for.”

“It would have made no difference.” Whether that was comfort or derision in War’s voice was hard to tell. “The Council wanted us dead. You could have turned back the hands of time themselves, stopped the apocalypse from happening, and they would still have sent us to our doom.”

“They really were a bunch of treacherous pricks,” Strife agreed, although it was clear War did not approve of his choice of words, even now.

And of course, it did not make Death feel better either. Silence once again fell between the four and Fury shook her head in frustration.

“Look at you, all three of you!” She wanted to be angry. Once upon a time, she would have been, but humanity had... well they had not trained her out of it. It was more appropriate to say they had taught her how to channel her anger. How to save it for when and where it was truly necessary. And right here, right now was not it. “You died, you came back from the dead, we reunited, and we punished the wicked of every realm, as we were supposed to! We even saved humanity along the way, and all you three can do is sit here and act as if nothing good has happened!”

“Wow.” She couldn’t see his face beneath the visor, but she could tell that Strife was quietly chuckling. “Since when did you become the giver of pep talks?”

“Since I gained enough humility to learn from mankind,” Fury snapped back.

And perhaps it was time to take another lesson from them, Fury mused. All she had to do was look into the distance past her brothers for even a few seconds and think back to any of the days of the last ninety years.

_Use your words._

_The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second-best is now._

_No man is an island._

She decided to start with Death, since he obviously needed it the most. Part of her still recoiled at the thought of lowering herself to such sentimentality, but that part was Pride and she had learned to face her long ago. Well, pride and her sense of smell, but that could be ignored.

Fury took a deep breath, walked over to her eldest brother, and flung her arms around him before he could react.

As tough as it was to surprise Death, it was absolutely worth it. She could feel him freeze on the spot, could hear Strife’s sharp ‘oh no she didn’t”, and she was sure War was staring at her like she had gone completely insane. It did not matter. Nothing mattered right now, except...

“I don’t care if you had to sacrifice our brothers and sisters, Death,” Fury muttered past his ear. “They died long ago. It took me thousands of years to allow myself to mourn them, but I did. However, I _do_ care that _you_ died. I mourned you ever since Despair showed up at my door and I am glad, genuinely glad, that you are alive again and that we all made it through this, whether with seven billion humans or with one-hundred and eighty-seven.”

“Daaaaaaaamn...” For once, Strife sounded like he was five syllables short of being at a loss for words. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

Fury shook her head as she let go of Death and turned to the older of her younger brothers. “Strife, you truly are an insufferable jester, do you know that?”

“ _Really_?” He put away Redemption and pressed a hand to his heart. “Why, I don’t think you’ve _ever_ called me _that_ before!” He really was insufferable. Bless his heart, as the humans would say. She wouldn’t want it any other way. “Alright, come here.”

As in all things, Strife was boisterous and passionate, where Death was cold and reserved. The hug he gave her was less of an embrace and more of a desperate tangle, as if he was afraid she would disappear if he was to let go. She was not surprised. After their escape from Earth, the humans had told her how ‘Jones’ had helped pull her from the rubble, how he had refused to leave her side for the many, many days she had been unconscious. He had already nearly lost her once.

“Thank you for everything you taught me, brother.”

Another thing the humans had taught her. Gratitude. A lesson she had learned with all the enthusiasm and enjoyment of pulling teeth. To her surprise, it actually felt... strangely good.

“You know what,” Strife grinned—she just knew he did—as he pulled away, “I don’t mind what you did with the old Fury. I think I like this one better.”

Fury smirked. “I guess the humans have rubbed off on both of us, haven’t they?”

“Definitely.”

In contrast to her, Strife did not seem to feel even the slightest bit ashamed of that. It seemed they could still learn much more from each other. Not just her and Strife, but Death as well. And of course...

“Do not even think about it,” War muttered through clenched teeth.

“Aw, c’mon bro!” Strife was already on his way over to what currently was most likely to be a punch to the teeth. He gave War a light pat on the back. “I only died once in this apocalypse. Death only died once. You died _twice_ and you think you’re not gettin’ a hug? You gotta be out of your mind.”

“I will not—” It happened almost too fast to catch. One moment War was standing steady as a rock, the next he was staggering forward, struggling to keep his balance. He ended up right between Death and Fury and when she looked to see what unstoppable force had hit the unmovable object, it drew a sharp bout of laughter from her.

Ruin had never looked so disappointed before. He stared at his rider as if he had been locked up in a stable and fed nothing but stale grass from the Kingdom of the Dead for the last hundred years. The others trotted up slowly behind them—Mayhem, Despair, and precious Rampage—cornering their masters as if to dare them to leave now. She gave her own stallion a quick pat and scratched his mane, then turned back to her brothers.

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” Strife ventured, “but I’d prefer hugging you guys to getting trampled by my own horse. Sounds slightly less embarrassin’, don’t you think?”

War gave Ruin one last disappointed look, but the steed merely snorted in disagreement. This was a phantom horse that was two-hundred percent ready to destroy its rider if it didn’t get its way.

War sighed. “Very well...”

That was all the permission she needed, and apparently Strife, too, had decided to make use of this opportunity before War could change his mind. She could feel his helmet buried in her hair almost the same moment she circled her arms around War’s neck and rested her head against his shoulder. One of Strife’s arms went behind her back, but it wasn’t his hand reached around her waist and pulled her closer to War. No, that one was too thin and had no armor. It was the same hand that had once crafted a trinket specifically designed to keep her alive.

And finally, when she had all but given up hope that anything would come of this, she could feel the pressure—strong enough to be inescapable and yet gentle enough not to leave a bruise—of War’s arms reaching around all three of them.

“War... Death... Strife... I’m glad you’re here with me, brothers...”

It was a strange sensation that warmed her from the inside. Something the feeling of which she had forgotten long ago, or perhaps she had never known. Something so un-nephilim-like, it would have made her laugh had that not meant ruining the moment.

Peace.

“... here, at the end of all things.”


End file.
